Renewal
by In Dreams
Summary: Nothing in life is certain and everything is fleeting, as Draco Malfoy has come to realize. Sometimes, renewal can be unexpected. Dramione.


**Author's Note:** Love and hugs to my alpha, Kyonomiko, and my beta, I Was BOTWP, for their help with this piece. Thanks to the HP Drizzle mods for hosting such a lovely fest.

Submitted for the 2019 Drizzle Fest for the following prompt: Cherry blossoms are a symbolic flower of the spring, a time of renewal, and the fleeting nature of life.

**Content Warning:** Minor character death, loss and grief, and angst.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

A chill hovered on the air, gentle gusts of wind chasing past and sending a shiver down the length of Draco's spine. Heavy grey clouds lingered in the distance, creeping forward on the breeze. It was beginning to look as if a storm was imminent.

Draco shifted on his feet, his fingers tightly interlocked and a hard tension in the set of his jaw. At his side came a soft sniffle from his mother. His eyes stung.

The gardens of Malfoy Manor were beautiful this time of year, and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. Stunning, fleeting, ephemeral; the soft pink sakuras hung thick on the branches, their petals dotting the lawns below. They were Narcissa Malfoy's favourites. Draco couldn't escape the cruel sort of irony, given the occurrences of the day.

How was he to mourn the loss of his father when the man remained alive? How could one bury a soul?

His throat burned as Draco attempted to swallow the thick lump accumulated there. The words of the officiant blurred and faded as they reached his ears; he could focus only on the headstone before him, elaborate and elegant, its words carved in the finest script.

But Draco couldn't see the words.

How was he to ever wrap his head around this?

Lucius Malfoy had been many things, but first and foremost the man had been Draco's father. Disillusioned and too far down the wrong path, Lucius had pulled his family into the depths of a situation he had never wanted. A fragile ghost of the old resentment still lingered, deep in the recesses of Draco's heart.

But years had passed since the war; years in which he had watched his father drift and wither in Azkaban, facing one trial after the next. The Malfoys had exhausted the bulk of their vaults on one attorney or another, and still the Wizengamot wouldn't be swayed.

Draco hadn't even realized the Ministry still had a small contingent of pet Dementors. Not until the final verdict had been declared, and he'd found himself facing a future without his father.

Even now, the loss felt surreal; he had seen his father only days before. Only, it wasn't his father anymore, but merely a ragged and shattered blond shell – a husk and a shadow of the man who'd raised him.

Lucius was the father Draco aspired _not_ to be. But yet…

He shuddered from his thoughts at a sudden movement by his side. His mother stood, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Draco's eyes landed once more on the headstone.

_Lucius Malfoy_

_Father and Husband_

It felt too plain, too nondescript. To think, the short-lived and fraught existence of his father could be summed up in so few words.

A gust swept through the gardens, throwing petals into the fine strands of Draco's hair. He felt taunted by the symbolism of the cherry blossoms – transience and mortality. Life had never before seemed so insignificant, so volatile and precarious.

He had given up so much in the efforts to save his father from death, when in the end, the fate was worse. So much more than money. Draco had given years of his life – he had given up the one person to see through him.

The burning in his unblinking stare intensified and the wind drew moisture to the corners of his eyes.

The only person aside from his parents who had ever loved him. And Merlin knew, Draco Malfoy was not easy to love.

In a world where control had been demanded and taken from him, his father's fate had been the one thing that felt within his control. But still, that was fleeting too.

He was certain there were lessons here – if only his heart wasn't so shredded that he could still look for such things.

The officiant concluded his speech and stepped away from the headstone. A soft murmur rose, but so few had attended. Most of whom, Draco wished hadn't.

Sycophants and Galleon-grubbers, acting as mourners. Draco wondered if they realized the Malfoy estate was all but destitute behind the polished veneer.

At his mother's other side was Andromeda Tonks, and Draco's young cousin Teddy. One of the only good things to come from Lucius' extended stay in Azkaban was Narcissa's reconnection with her long-estranged sister.

His eyes fell to Andromeda and Narcissa's clasped hands, and Draco felt a surge of gratitude for the way his aunt had accepted his mother back into her life without hesitation or demand.

Narcissa's long fingers landed on his shoulder, and Draco spared a glance in her direction. His mother had all but faded away herself, her once elegant figure now gaunt and skeletal. His father's incarceration had taken a heavy toll. He dropped his own hand atop hers, giving it a brief squeeze.

"I'll be along shortly."

His own voice felt hoarse and unfamiliar; Narcissa gave a brief nod and retreated towards the Manor with her sister and nephew, as the small crowd fixed their sights on refreshments.

Dark clouds drifted overhead and the silence was stifling as Draco was left alone in the gardens with only the haunting memories of his father. The air hung, thick and humid around him, the fragrance of the blossoms cloying and potent. Another gust swept through, fracturing the anxious moment.

The first droplets of water broke from the clouds, catching on Draco's eyelashes and blurring the words on Lucius' tombstone. They hadn't a body to bury, so the stone was merely symbolic.

It was a horrific thought, that Lucius would fade away in prison until his tired and broken body would one day be properly laid to rest, unrecognizable.

A hot welling caught in Draco's throat and he bit down hard on his lower lip, feeling moisture sting at his eyes, separate from the cool raindrops from above.

His gaze snapped up, feeling the presence of another. A mourner, lingering perhaps. He blinked several times, a heavy knit coming to the skin of his brow.

"Hi."

The word was soft, hushed, and Draco was incredulous as his eyes slid to the side, landing on a voluminous head of curls.

He cleared his throat. "Hello."

It had been six months since he'd seen or heard from Hermione Granger. Since she'd left – since he'd driven her away. Not a day had passed that he didn't think of her, that he didn't try to remember the lilting timbre of her voice, even as the memories of their time together fell through his grasp like grains of sand.

"I'm sorry." The melted chocolate in her eyes met his, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she turned back to face the headstone. "About your father. I know how much it meant to you to save him."

Draco didn't know how to respond to that. He hadn't seen her during the ceremony, but she'd always had her ways of keeping unnoticed.

Granger went on, toeing the soft and moistening earth beneath her feet. "I hope you've been well, otherwise."

For as long as they'd been civil – and then more – Granger had had a tendency to speak when nervous. Draco felt his lips tug into the ghost of a smirk.

"Otherwise."

He turned his face to look at her; her cheeks were flushed from the cold and maybe something else, her lips pressed together with consternation. Her arms were folded across her front, her fingers wrapped tightly around her elbows. She released a sigh.

"Look, Draco, maybe I shouldn't have come. I didn't mean to intrude. I'll leave, if you –"

"It wasn't worth it," he interrupted, and her eyes snapped to meet his. "Saving him – it should never have come between us."

There was something about staring at his father's tombstone, the rain falling in earnest now, and Hermione Granger was at his side, unflinching. The cherry blossoms all around them were shifting in the wind, signifying the ephemeral quality of life.

Draco swallowed, sweeping a hand through his hair as it plastered to his crown in the rain. "For what it's worth," he went on, feeling his confidence seep away like the water into the earth, "I'm sorry. I regret that I didn't let you in more."

Her words fell to a whisper. "I only wanted to help."

"I know." The words felt cold and stale on his tongue, too little and not enough. "I didn't see it in time."

Three years had passed since he and Granger had truly connected for the first time – it had been a simple conversation, bereft of the lingering disdain of the war. They had both been so tired of the animosity, the heartbreak and the exhaustion of a society attempting to rebuild.

Things between them had spiraled and built into a rushed frenzy, and within two months Draco had been crazy for the girl he would never have given a chance at Hogwarts.

Granger gave a brief shrug, though she continued to worry her lip; water soaked through her curls, leaving them sunken and flat. There was a hush in her voice as she breathed, "It is what it is." Her eyes slid to meet his as she shifted on the spot. "Anyways – I'll leave you be. I only wanted to express my remorse in person."

Discomfort pulled at his stomach at the thought of letting her walk away again and Draco reached out to catch her wrist as she turned. She jumped at the contact, her eyes falling to land on the way his fingers curled around her arm; she had always been so small compared to him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse. He could feel her gaze on him but kept his eyes fixed on her wrist, watching the rain droplets as they landed. "I didn't realize – please don't go yet."

Draco could feel the tension between them but she didn't move to withdraw. His heart leapt at her next words.

"Suppose we could have a cup of tea."

Water streamed down his face as he looked up, feeling a smile tug at his lips. "Tea would be nice."

* * *

Draco felt a seizing onslaught of nerves as he found himself across the table from Granger, in a small, eclectic tea shop in Wiltshire. It was an old favourite haunt they used to frequent.

He watched as she stirred a lump of sugar into her cup before lifting the Royal Doulton to her lips. Her eyes met his as she set the cup back on its saucer.

They hadn't bothered with drying charms and Draco felt a chill seep into his bones despite the warmth of the shop. Granger's hair was wild, tangled and windblown, and as her eyes sparkled at him, he fought the urge to bury his hands in her curls. His face in her neck.

"So," she prompted, clearing her throat. "How have you been keeping?"

His jaw clenched, and the clink of silverware in his hands reminded him he was fidgeting. He set down his spoon with a brief nod. "As well as could be expected, I suppose."

Sympathy flitted across her face, and while he hated himself for it, he was willing to take any attention she had to offer. It had been too long since he had heard her voice and watched the expression on her face.

"I was following the _Prophet_. I wished things could have ended differently," she mused. Something in her eyes hinted at a deeper significance to her words and Draco swallowed thickly.

"As do I," he intoned, his voice soft. He released a long, rattling breath and added, "Thank you for coming today."

"Of course." She offered a quick nod, before taking a sip of her tea. "I wanted to be sure you were… alright."

He hadn't been alright. Not since she had walked out of his life six months prior. Sitting across from her now, it was so plain in his heart and his soul, that he had never stopped loving her. She had been the only person to reach him after the war – the one person for whom he wanted to change. To do better.

"I miss you," he choked, lips parted and a furrow in his brow. She blinked in surprise and he went on, "Every day, Granger."

She shifted in her seat, looking uncertain. Her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear. "I've missed you too, Draco." Her eyes met his for a moment before landing on the table. "I keep asking myself, where did everything go so wrong?"

Draco shook his head, releasing the truth he'd kept contained for far too long. If this was his chance to make things right, he needed to reach her. "It was me. I couldn't let go of certain things. You helped me move on in so many ways… but I think there was a part of me that refused to leave my past behind." He ran a hand through his hair; the tumultuous rhythm of his heart in his chest felt so volatile. "It was as if trying to save my father from Azkaban was the only thing I could still do for my family."

The pity returned to her gaze, but with it was something else. Granger lifted a hand and her fingers grazed the back of his palm where it laid on the table. She whispered, "I know. It meant more to you than I understood at the time."

"But now…" He trailed off, making a face. Her lips twitched. "It feels like I sacrificed something more important. Like maybe, that wasn't the only thing I should have been focusing on."

"Maybe not," she agreed, a soft tilt to her head. "But sometimes we need to learn these lessons. Respecting the past while honouring the future."

Draco breathed, "How are you so smart?" A wry smile tugged at his lips.

She gave him a sad smile, with a sort of one-shouldered shrug. "Experience?"

Twisting his hand on the table, he caught her fingers between his. Granger had faced more than her share of struggles with her own parents, and he regretted that she'd been left to face her own demons while he battled with his.

"Maybe," he began, tapping on the table with his free hand, "you'll consider giving me another shot."

Her eyes landed back on his; her throat bobbed. Draco could see the hesitation in her eyes – a reminder of the hurt he'd caused her. He glanced away, unable to hold her gaze in case she were to reject him. He wasn't certain whether he could handle that today, and suddenly wondered what he had been thinking in asking her, when he already felt so emotionally raw.

Through the large windows of the tea shop, Draco could see the grey clouds clearing; the cobbled sidewalk was wet but the rain had ceased. A tentative hint of sunlight peeked through the clouds in streaking shafts and lit up the street, patterned with the pale pink of cherry blossoms.

Granger's hand lingered in his and when he chanced to look at her again, her lower lip was caught between her teeth.

"I'll consider it." The words were a soft exhale but there was a sparkle in her eyes. "Let's go for a walk."


End file.
